[Robots and Magic] New Memories, Old Enemies ✓

20. 𝘏𝘦𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥, 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘶𝘵?

Optics flickered, struggling to power back online. His systems rebooted sluggishly, processor swimming in a haze of static and muffled noise. A dull, painful throb pulsed at the back of his helm, each pulse sharper than the last as clarity slowly returned to him. A low, involuntary grunt escaped his intake.

The world around him was a blur— faint lighting, muted colors, the sterile scent of coolant and metal in the air. His field of vision swayed as he tried to make sense of his surroundings. Wherever he was, at least it wasn't too bright, something he was begrudgingly grateful for, given the splitting ache behind his optics.

With a groggy exhale, Thunderhoof attempted to lift a servo to rub at his throbbing helm but—

His arm refused to move. His gaze widened as a jolt of unease rippled through his systems. Instinctively, he tried again but the resistance was immediate, firm and unyielding. His arms were locked in place, bound on the wrists. His glance snapped downward, taking in his predicament, alarm spiking in his core.

Thick, reinforced metal restraints clamped tightly around his servos, securing him to the berth he lay on. The heavy-duty cuffs were bolted into the frame beneath him, "What the—?!"

"I advise you to stay calm." a gruff voice interrupted before he could spit out another word, "Otherwise, I'll have to put you back in recharge."

Thunderhoof's attention snapped to the source, landing on the back of a mech, standing at a nearby console. Shorter than him. Broad frame. White and orange plating. He didn't even glance at him, his focus fully absorbed in whatever he was doing, digits moving swiftly over the screen in front of him.

"...Eyo, yous threatenin' me, old mech?!" his tone came out sharper than intended, lined with defiance as he yanked at his restraints.

"No." Ratchet replied, sounding utterly unamused, "I'm simply advising you to stop moving so much before you damage yourself further." the medic continued, not bothering to turn around.

That struck a nerve. Thunderhoof's expression darkened as irritation twisted through him. He hated being restrained and being out of control. And most of all, he despised being looked down on like some reckless, unhinged brute who didn't understand the consequences of his actions. He gritted his dentas, exhaling sharply through his vents. The cuffs weren't budging. And this fraggin' Autobot knew it.

"Besides," the doctor added, finally sparing him a sideways glance, "You can struggle all you want. Those restraints aren't coming loose, no matter how hard you try to escape."

The antlered mech let out a low, aggravated grumble but forced himself to stop moving. At least for the time being. Instead, he turned his attention back to the room itself, trying to get a better read on his situation, "Where the pit am I?!"

"Inside a secret military base." Ratchet's answer was calm, casual, still concentrated on his work, "In other words, the Autobots' medical bay."

Thunderhoof stiffened at the information. With a low curse, he let his helm fall back against the berth with an exasperated thunk. Of all the places he could've ended up... This was by far the worst-case scenario. The last thing he wanted was to be stuck here, at the mercy of the Autobots and their stubborn, preachy medical staff.

His optics moved to the older mech, now finally facing him. Ratchet studied him for a second before speaking, "How are you feeling?" there was no sympathy in the question. No gentle bedside manner. Just a professional, detached inquiry.

Thunderhoof huffed as he shifted uncomfortably, "Like I drank the worst high grade there ever is."

Ratchet gave him a short nod of understanding, "That means your processor is still trying to cool down." he explained, "If you'd prefer not to feel like you were hit by a cargo freighter, I can administer a serum mixed with Energon to ease the pain. But I'll need you to behave when I release your arms so you can take it. Or you can continue squirming like a sparkling and make the soreness worse."